Breakdown
by Van the Key of Lain
Summary: Because once again...I made the wrong choice.


This came to me three days ago and has plagued me since. The first time it ran threw my head, I cried like a little bitch. So now, it's your turn to cry, my dedicated readers. Because I need to get this story out of my head, and because every once in a while, I need to break out of my comfort zone and right things I normally don't write. Helps me expand.

Also, this story is its own. It is NOT part of my MGQG(Wishes) universe.

Disclaimer: Seth MacFarlane owns Family Guy, not I.

* * *

Breakdown

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I can't remember a night I don't wake up screaming her name.

The memories; that day...

Everytime it's the same. I wake up screaming, reaching out for someone who isn't there. I feel like my heart is literally ripping itself apart. I can't control the shaking of my body; wracked with pain...guilt...

And then the body next to me moves and brings her arms around me, pulling me close; holding me, comforting me...

And like always, I can't stop the tears, can't stop myself from sobbing like a child into her chest.

She says nothing. She just holds me; sometimes she rocks back and forth, but mostly she just waits.

Waits for me to finish. Waits for me to regain my sense. Waits for me to fall back into a dreamless sleep.

My wife waits for me to heal.

But I don't know if I ever will.

Because I made a choice.

A choice between the beautiful woman who is now my wife... and my ex-lover.

And once again... I made the wrong choice.

Yet I had thought, truly, that God was giving me a sign. I thought I was getting a second chance for true happiness. That I had somehow redeemed myself in His eyes, to grant me this chance.

So I made the choice, and in doing so, I actually destroyed what I was seeking.

I had been so blinded by gaining back what I lost, that I didn't see the noose I had already tied around not just my own neck, but hers as well.

I remember how beautful they both looked the day of my wedding. I had thought it amusing how two different people could both shine in such a similair way. Yet if I would have looked closer...really looked...

I would have seen her tears weren't of joy... no matter how much she smiled for me.

I would have seen her pain... under every laugh she uttered.

After my wife and I shared our first dance, we split apart. She went to dance with a close friend. I went to find my ex, because I still cared for her, and she was still a dear part of my life.

She wasn't there.

I learned she'd left right before the priest asked if anyone had reservations to the marrage.

It hurt at the time, but only a little. I was still too far gone in my world to really understand the meaning behind her actions.

Life moved on. Days became weeks, and weeks became months.

Yet...day by day and week by week... my happy world...the thing I longed for...

It was fading. Dying.

The first time I called my wife by _her_ name...didn't seem to affect her. I had been too shocked at the Freudian slip and felt nervous and awkward.

But it happened again...and again.

My wife called me on it several times; and I hadn't even realized it. I even argueed back I hadn't and she'd misheard me.

I started to see something in her eyes I'd never seen before...

Resentment.

It only went downhill from there.

There were times, at first rare, then gradully more common, that my wife would touch me, or moan, or move her body against me in a way that brought back the times I was with my ex.

Before that day... it was rare...

After?

My wife knew when I wasn't looking at her during our acts of passion. I was seeing _her_, hearing _her_...

That day...will never stop haunting me.

It was some few months after the wedding. There was a knock at the door. My wife was in the kitchen, and I was in the living room, so I got up to answer the door.

It was her. My ex.

She looked so distraught. So pained.

I felt my chest tighten.

She asked to come in...telling me she wanted to ask me something.

I let her in; walked her to the guest bedroom.

For a moment she was quiet. Then she turned to me.

The longing in her eyes was so overwhelming.

She'd asked if I was really happy; if I was sure I'd made the right choice.

I was so shocked by her questions; I couldn't really think straight.

Her stare shifted to concern; and I remember her hand touching my arm.

I lost it.

I couldn't hold back anymore.

I grabbed her, pulled her close, decended upon her lips.

She returned the affections almost immediatly. She threw everything into that kiss... her desparation, her need, her longing...

And it just about took me over.

Everything just felt right.

But I had made a choice, and I had to live with that choice.

I pushed her away suddenly; the look on my face one of disgust; but it was at myself.

It was never meant for her.

Yet she saw it as such, and ran from me; ran out of the house.

I called after her, chasing her. I vaugly remember my wife calling out too.

I begged her to stop, and was surprised when she had.

I huffed, slightly out of breath, leaning against my mailbox.

She was across the street. Her back was to me.

Then I told her.

I told her everything I should have told her before.

I bore my soul to her; to the world.

I didn't care who saw.

I made the wrong choice.

I was sorry.

I wanted her in my life.

I wanted her by my side.

She was everything to me.

She slowly turned towards me... and for the first time since I'd made my choice...

She smiled at me. A true, honest, full of hope and love smile. Her eyes brimming with tears, telling me the same.

I had never seen her more beautiful than at that moment.

I saw my happy world in that smile.

And she laughed; and shot towards me.

I reached out for her.

She did the same.

One second.

That smile; those eyes, both so full of life and love.

One second.

She was gone.

I blinked and she was no longer infront of me.

No longer reaching for me.

No longer there.

For a moment, the world was completely silent. I swallowed, and turned towards my wife; who had been standing next to me. She looked horror striken; her complexion stark white; eyes wide with fear; her hands over her mouth.

I turned back when my senses finally started working again.

I heard a scream.

Noises.

People shouting.

More screams.

That's when I saw a bus just sitting in the middle of the road.

I felt myself move towards it; something compelling me to move.

Yet every step was like a knife stabbing into my heart. My brain was starting to piece together the moment it has just blocked out of my mind.

The tears had already started falling before it occured to me.

Before I saw...

I think I might have screamed then.

The blood was everywhere.

One second I was standing; the next I was down on the ground, clutching her to me.

I'd never seen her so pale...

I kept telling her she'd be okay; kept telling her I was sorry.

A blood covered hand caressed my check; silencing me.

Her voice was so quiet; her eyes dim, and smile small.

_"...Iris for a girl...Gabriel for a boy..."_

I didn't think I could have cried harder than I already was.

I clentched my jaw, trying so desperatly to not breakdown.

Yet I did. I brought her even closer; telling her yes, telling her we could have both, telling her that I loved her...

Telling her to stay with me.

Begging her to stay with me.

Her hand fell away...

And I lost it.

I lost my voice screaming her name, over and over.

My best friends had to restrain me when the E.M.T.s arrived.

I remember breaking away; only to walk three steps before I collapsed.

Only later did I come to learn I'd suffered a heart attack brought on by chronic stress.

Yet life went on...

Days to weeks, weeks to months, months to years...

My life, however, didn't...not at first.

Even after baring my soul to the world; even after professing my love to another woman...

My wife stayed with me.

At least until she couldn't.

Because it wasn't fair to her.

I had never, in my life, wanted to hurt her. I had only wanted to love her.

Yet...yet things never seem to work out the way we want them to.

Or at least...for me, they never did.

No, they did...twice...but I made the wrong choices...

And I'll live with it for the rest of my life...

Which...which I hope isn't much longer.

Because I just don't know...

I just-

x x x x

The pencil fell to the notepad and rolled softly a beat before it came to rest. Tear stains, some dry, some wet, adorned the paper in spots. All along the table were scattered pages; some full, some with only one line and some pages had sketches.

Glenn sat before the table, his hand over his eyes. He'd been writing all day and his hand was starting to hurt. Giving himself a moment, he looked up from his desk and to the clock on the wall. It was still fairly early in the afternoon.

A sudden, but expected knock on his door came then, before it openned.

Glenn gave a soft smile to the woman he knew would show up today. He turned towards her.

"How are you, Glenn?"

"Depends on who you ask. Doctors say I'm recovering well. Shrinks say I'm suicidal. Me? I'm just... tired. Really tired."

She moved over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe you should lie down and get some rest?"

Glenn shook his head.

"Mm. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Glenn."

"Besides... I...I've got too much left to write." He looked over to his desk.

His ex-wife looked over at the desk full of notes, papers and sketches. She turned back to him; though his gaze was on the desk.

No... it was beyond this room.

"It's almost four."

"I know."

"I'll be waiting outside."

She turned, and began walking out of the room.

Glenn turned his gaze back towards the retreating figure.

"Cheryl."

Cheryl paused, turning towards him.

"Actually...my hand. It kind of cramped up on me." Glenn spoke softly.

She moved back over to Glenn, then behind him.

"Anything you need before we go?"

Glenn pointed over to a small long white box on the desk, right next to where Cheryl stood. She picked it up carefully.

"May I?"

He nodded.

Opening the box, Cheryl gave a small smile.

"A flower?"

"An Iris." His voice was distant.

Cheryl closed the box and handed it to him. He took it and held it carefully as she began to push his wheelchair.

"Sure you want me doing this? Joe might pick on you."

Glenn shrugged.

"If he says anything, I'll just stand up."

"You're terrible." She mused.

Silence stretched between them until they arrived at their destination. Six others were already there. Upon joining the group, Cheryl moved to Glenn's side.

"You're hand alright now?"

"Yeah, I can take it from here."

"Alright. I'm going over to say hello."

She moved away just as another moved forward, offering him a smile and a beer.

"Hey Quagmire. How ya doin'?"

"Hey Peter." He said quietly, and took the beer.

"I've been better. You?"

"Good, good. Can't really complain."

The two men fell silent. After a moment, Peter spoke up.

"Listen, Quagmire...Lois and I were talking; have been talking about it...and, well..."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck.

"Frankly, I miss having you around. It's like I've lost part of myself. I know Joe misses ya too...and so that's why Lois and I decided, that we'd like you to come live with us. Get you out of that nut house; you don't belong there. Your place is here, with all of us."

Glenn swallowed.

"How...how can you ask me that? I...Peter, I-"

"It wasn't your fault, Quagmire. It just happened. Could have been anyone."

"But it wasn't, Peter. It wasn't just _anyone_..."

"It was an accident."

"I let her go..." Glenn whispered; clutching the box in his arms tightly.

He grit his teeth, trying to hold back the emotional damn this day always brought.

Peter put a hand on his shoulder.

"Look...give yourself a minute, think about what I said, then come and join us over there."

Peter then walked off towards the rest of the group. Glenn took a moment to compose himself, then followed behind Peter. He exchanged 'Hellos' with everyone else, before setting the brakes on his wheelchair, and easing himself out of it.

Carefully, he made his way over to the large marble slab that marked a grave. Kneeling, he openned the box and removed the single, delicate flower and placed it upon the stone.

Leaning down, he rested his forehead against the cold marble. His traced the name carved in the stone; already knowing the feel by heart, by touch alone.

He'd stay like this for a while. No one ever seemed to mind. For that he was greatful.

Because during these moments...

"Happy Birthday, Megan."

She was right there...

With him.

~ End ~

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God damnit, I made myself cry like a little bitch again! And this wasn't even the original way I saw it in my head. A lot of it got changed around because I kept replaying the story over and over in my head for the last three days; thus parts got moved, changed, forgotten, added...

And it didn't help that I forced myself to listen to some of the saddest f'in songs while writing this. If I got just one of you guys even the slightest bit teary eyes, then I accomplished my goal. I really hate sad stories like this, but this hit me like a frozen chicken, and I had to write it out to get rid of it. I didn't want it interfearing with my main stories (that while had very sad parts, ends up with lots of happy).

And lastly...yes...I do actually see Glenn as the kind of character that could have a complete meltdown like this. We have only seen a tiny part of it in the show, but Glenn, like Meg, has an obsessive personality - only he keeps it mostly in check. Anywho, going back to chappy seven of Kink. Ta~


End file.
